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“Nova fell in love with the name the first time she heard it over the phone,” Silas points out, entirely unsympathetic. “You have to deal with it, Agent Coleman.”

“I hold the kid, and I just picture Ward’s terrifying face judging my diaper-swaddling technique.” Teddy sighs, though the corner of his mouth twitches upward, betraying the complaint. He loves the kid. He loves everything he stumbled into.

I flip my knife into the air, watching the steel catch the sunlight before it drops perfectly back into my palm.

A year ago, this conversation wouldn’t exist. My brothers and I spent two decades obsessed with nothing but blood, vengeance, and the Sanctum of Ash. We tracked the Prophets. We built a kingdom of shadows to fund our hunt. The idea of settling down, of building actual families, felt like a luxury reserved for normal people. Men whose childhoods didn’t consist of locked dormitories and ritualistic punishment.

Now, Silas tracks infant milestones. Jonah plans baby showers.

I look toward the front of the group. Elias stands tall, his broad shoulders cutting a striking silhouette in his tailored waistcoat. He rests both gloved hands over the ruby tip of his cane, watching the hauler pull away from our new trailer.

“What about you, El?” I ask, my voice carrying over the crunch of the departing tires.

The ringmaster turns his head slowly. His pale, icy gray eyes lock onto mine.

“You and Jules planning on filling the back of that Hellcat with car seats anytime soon?” I prompt, gesturing toward the muscle car.

“We’re trying,” Elias states. He doesn’t offer a single ounce of hesitation. The man is obsessed with his wife, utterly consumed by her. “Jules wants a family. I intend to give her exactly what she desires.”

Logan stops spinning his lighter. He stares at Elias in pure horror. “Miniature versions of Jules running around the lot. The bossiness. The sarcasm. We’re all going to die.”

Elias ignores the fire eater.

I shift my gaze to the quietest man in the circle. Rowe stands near the edge of the shade, leaning his hip against a rusted oil drum. He drags his thumb over the elevated, shiny scar tissue racing up his inner forearm. The nervous tic grounds him.

“Rowe?” I toss the question his way.

The animal tamer drops his hand. His eyes soften, thinking of the dark-haired veterinarian currently out shopping with my girl.

“We aren’t ready yet,” Rowe answers, his deep voice carrying a quiet certainty. “Wren and I are still figuring out everything. We want to enjoy it being just the two of us for a while longer. The animals take up enough of our energy right now.”

I nod, understanding the boundary. Rowe is still healing. Wren is incredibly patient. Bringing a kid into their dynamic requires a level of touch and chaos they simply haven’t built the tolerance for yet.

Jonah pushes off the wooden crates. The giant steps into my line of sight, his bright green eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

“You taking a poll for a reason, Cole?” Jonah rumbles.

The blunt question hits me square in the chest.

My pulse kicks up, and a sudden, violent rush of heat crawls straight up the back of my neck, flooding my cheeks. I actually fumble the knife. The steel slips through my fingers, the blunt edge slapping awkwardly against my palm before I manage to grip the hilt.

I don’t blush. I am the knife thrower. I am the arrogant, chaotic sleazebag who used to flirt with anything possessing a pulse. I don’t get flustered standing in the dirt with my brothers.

But I can feel my face burning.

“Look at him,” Logan crows, pointing a scarred finger directly at my nose. “He’s red! The quivering hilt is blushing!”

“Shut up, Lo,” I snap, shoving the blade into the leather sheath strapped to my thigh.

I drag a hand through my messy black hair, blowing out a long, ragged breath. Seven pairs of eyes stare at me, completely silent, waiting for the punchline.

I don’t have one.

“I want it,” I confess, the truth tearing out of my throat, raw and unguarded. “I’m eager. I want a kid. I want to build a family with her.”

The admission hangs in the humid air.

“Then tell her you’re ready,” Teddy offers reasonably.